


you're my holy wine

by tosca1390



Category: Hidden Legacy Series - Ilona Andrews
Genre: F/M, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-01
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-12-09 22:37:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11678511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tosca1390/pseuds/tosca1390
Summary: I’m staying at Rogan’s tonight,Nevada texts the family group message as Connor drives them back from his mother’s house in the greying late afternoon.OoooooooohArabella texts back.Stop it,Nevada replies, huffing out a breath.I’ll be back by lunch.





	you're my holy wine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [empressearwig](https://archiveofourown.org/users/empressearwig/gifts), [valkyrierising](https://archiveofourown.org/users/valkyrierising/gifts).



> this is totally fine to be writing instead of my dissertation it's fine. 
> 
> Spoilers for Wildfire! 
> 
> to the Hidden Legacy crew

*

**I’m staying at Rogan’s tonight,** Nevada texts the family group message as Connor drives them back from his mother’s house in the greying late afternoon. She’s surprised how well they got along, but maybe she shouldn’t have been. Family above all – just because Rogan’s father was a madman doesn’t mean his mother is. 

**Oooooooooh** Arabella texts back. 

**Stop it,** Nevada replies, huffing out a breath. **I’ll be back by lunch.**

Grandma Frida replies with a kissy-face emoji, which just makes Nevada roll her eyes. They’re not _that_ bad.

Connor takes her hand as it rests on her thigh. “What’s wrong?” 

“Younger sisters and nosy relatives. Don’t worry, they’ll lure you in soon enough. They’re still in awe a little, I think,” she says with a grin, glancing at him. 

He grunts low in his throat. “I’m in awe of them. Handling the trials as they did was impressive. I especially enjoyed Arabella’s _this sucks_.”

“Math isn’t her best subject,” she replies, chest warm with the sincerity in his voice. 

“I always wanted a family I liked,” he says lightly. “I can deal with some nosiness.”

She squeezes his hand, warm in hers. The Texas countryside speeds past them, grey and mild with the coming new year. “Will you celebrate New Year’s with us?”

He glances at her, eyes warm though his face is placid. “I’d hoped you’d all come to the house. We can have food, booze, cake. I’ll invite my people.”

And her family was his people now. Just as he was now one of hers. She bites the inside of her lip on a smile. “Yeah. Sounds good.”

“You’ll have to be very quiet that night,” he murmurs. 

“One of these days I’ll tie you down and make you scream, how about that?” she retorts. 

His mouth breaks into a smile. “I could be convinced.”

A warm spill of his magic curves the nape of her neck. “Don’t you turn me on in this car,” she warns. 

He chuckles and retreats. She picks up her phone once more. 

**New Year’s dinner at Rogan’s,** she texts the group. 

A new message pops up, a fresh group created; in Connor’s jeans pocket, his phone beeps. _Oh god_. Nevada looks at the message, at the recipients; all the Baylors, and Rogan. 

**WELCOME TO THE FAM** , texts Grandma Frida. 

**We have ideas about the wedding btw** Catalina adds. 

**What’s the budget how big what kind of cake Nevada you need a STUNNING dress** Arabella texts. 

**casual dress requested** , Bern adds. 

“Great,” Nevada murmurs, setting her phone aside. 

“I assume all those notifications are not to worry about,” Connor says. They’re close to his house, the house of her dreams. She wants to ask how he knew, if he knew – or maybe it’s just another sign of how compatible they’ve always been, when they let the other in far enough to see it. 

“Can’t speak for your phone, but sure. Probably all right,” she says, watching him drive. 

He smiles slightly but it doesn’t reach his eyes. 

“What’s up?” she asks. “I thought your mom liked me.”

“She did,” he says. 

“Well, I liked her too. So what’s up?”

“House Shaffer has things to answer for,” he says lightly. Evasively. 

Nevada sighs. “It was unexpected. Can’t blame her for trying. Garen clearly didn’t terrify his family enough when he ran home,” she says, trying for humor. She’s just got to lean into it, or else he’ll plan elaborate deaths for all their perceived enemies. She doesn’t begrudge him the protective instinct, but she wants Connor all to herself today. 

“Ran home to his mother,” Rogan mutters. 

“Maybe I wasn’t scary enough with Harcourt,” she muses. Remembering the bloom of her magic over the Tremaine hex, the beauty of it in the chalk and in Harcourt’s mind – there is so much she still has to learn, but her instincts are strong, and often correct. 

She looks at Rogan, biting the inside of her cheek. Even when she resisted, her gut still led right to him. She breathes deeply, letting her love for him flood her mind, projecting outward. 

That gets her a glance, hot and meaningful. “You were stunning with Harcourt. It’s amazing to see you embrace your magic in every way.”

When he says things like that - _you’re my spring, Nevada_ \- she can’t keep her emotions under control. The sincerity rips her to pieces. She reaches over to clasp her hand around his wrist, warm and thick and rough. She wants to be pinned beneath him in that large bed with the scarred headboard. She wants to crawl into the circle of his arms and be held until she’s fully rested. She wants to wrap her arms around his waist and press him into the door and claim his body with her kiss. 

Suddenly, the cab of the car feels ten times warmer. Magic ripples against her skin, a drop of warm heat touching her sternum and spilling down her belly. 

“Connor – “

“You started it,” he says smugly. 

She swallows and relaxes into the touch of his magic, letting hers unravel against his. As they turn into his driveway and into the garage, she looks out over the surrounding empty land before it disappears. She wonders how far in each direction Rogan owns the land. 

“Nevada.”

She glances at him once more. The car engine shuts off and they look at each other in the dim light of the garage. His face is placid but she sees the heat in his eyes, the dragon she loves. They have made their commitments in public; the news of their engagement will be out by tomorrow morning. He will never hide from her, even when he wears the face of a Prime. 

“You know, a man being told he can never lie to a woman would usually be a turn-off for him,” she says casually. 

He bares his teeth in a sharp grin. “Why should I even try? You’re the only one to see right through me, truthseeker or not.”

Laughing softly, she unbuckles her seat belt and slips out of the car. He follows suit, and the garage door closes behind them. He checks his phone, his eyes widening at the notifications, and she laughs. 

She takes his hand as they walk into the house from the garage. “Can I ask about this house?” 

He glances down at her. They pause in the hallway leading into the main entryway, as he keys in codes to the alarm panel. Constant vigilance, she thinks. She knows it well. She’s relieved his people are still at the headquarters by the family warehouse, just in case. 

“What about it?” he asks, raising his brows. “You can change anything you want, you know.”

“I don’t want to. It’s just – it’s perfect,” she says, looking around. “It’s what I would have wanted.”

“Well, it’s yours now,” he says with a smile. He slides his arm around her waist, the large spread of his hand on her back. The heat of him through her jacket and shirt is distracting. 

Peering up at him, she tilts her head. “Yeah. About that.”

“No changing your mind now.”

“You need to stop expecting that,” she says archly. “It’s a level of insecurity I wouldn’t have expected.”

He leans down and kisses her, gentle and quiet. A night-in-with-pizza-and-cake kiss, a good-morning-here’s-your-bear-claw kiss. It won’t always be war. 

“You don’t want a prenup agreement?” she asks, resting her hand on his chest. Her fingers play with the open buttons at his collar. 

He looks just past her, fingers stroking up and down her spine. She shifts closer into the circle of his hold, laying her cheek against his shoulder. His light sportcoat is cool against her skin. He dressed up for the trials, whereas she’s in a t-shirt and jeans. Not exactly the nicest outfit, but maybe the Tear of Aegean around her neck makes a difference. 

“I’m a person who believes in contracts,” she says after a long spell of comfortable quiet. “I know how marriages between Houses work. I don’t want you to feel weird.”

His hand suddenly flexes hard on her back, holding her closer. “I understand if you would want one,” he says evenly after a moment. “You must want to protect your family.”

She rolls her eyes. “Conner, I just – I wanted to talk about it.”

He dips his head, his lips brushing the crown of her hair. “My team will do anything for me. But I know that is out of militaristic devotion,” he says quietly. “My mother will kill for me, because I am her son. But you are the only one in the world who loves all of me. Who knows all of me. There is no contract that can encompass that. And if you were to decide to leave after a year, two years, five years – I would trust that judgment. Because you don’t make decisions lightly.”

Suddenly, tears burn behind her eyes. She tilts her head back to look at him. He watches her without guard or caution. “You know all my secrets. You’ve seen all my horrors. You haven’t flinched yet. I’ve already shared everything that matters with you. Money, a house, cars? It means nothing without you.”

“Foolish Connor,” she whispers. “I don’t need any of that.”

He shrugs slightly. “So if you need a prenup, we can write one up. But I don’t care. I just want you.”

“Well, what about my baggage? Murderous paternal grandmother, gun-slinging mother, boy-crazy sisters and awkward cousins?” she asks, smiling slightly. 

“To be perfectly honest, I’m thrilled to be in the Baylor clan. Built-in murderous babysitters. Also, they love me already,” he says, shrugging again. Can a shrug be smug? He makes it smug. 

Her chest is tight with emotion. She cups his cheek in her hand. “I don’t need a prenup,” she says softly. 

Looking down at her, his eyes soften, the lines of his carved face relax. He is not a handsome man in the classical sense, but he is hers and he is beautiful. How could he ever think she would want a Shaffer? Or anyone else?

“All right,” he says, leaning into the touch of her hand on his face. “Now what?”

She raises an eyebrow. “I passed my trials and met your mother today. I’m not interested in anything except food and a bed.”

Heat shimmers between them as his hand flexes on her back. “I think we can manage.”

Yelping, she wraps her arms around his neck as he lifts her off her feet and carries her through the hall and up the stairs to the bedroom. She cranes her neck around, peering down the hallways. “This place is huge,” she comments lightly. 

Connor snorts. “Have to keep up Prime appearances.”

“Oh yeah,” she thinks, wrinkling her nose. “I guess the warehouse won’t cut it anymore.”

He sets her down on her feet in his bedroom and shuts the door with his magic. His eyes are dark and focused on her, as if she is the only person who exists in the world. She wants to live and breathe in this gaze of his. 

“Don’t worry about it today,” he says quietly. With a gentle but steady touch, he unzips her jacket. She shrugs it off as his hands go to the hem of her t-shirt. 

“Patient today?” she teases, shaking out her ponytail as he tugs her shirt over her head. 

A warm smile curves his lips as he looks at her, the Tear of the Aegean between her breasts, a simple white bra against her warm honeyed skin. She bites the inside of her bottom lip, her hair falling loose around her shoulders. 

“I just wanted to demonstrate that I could do this without ruining your clothes all the time,” he says. 

Laughing, she steps forward and kisses him lightly. “I love you.”

The line of his body seems to relax even as desire thrums between them, like a struck bell. “I love you too,” he says. 

She kisses him again as she pushes off his sportcoat, and slides her hands over his shirt to his belt buckle. Their hands tangle as she works off his jeans and he undoes hers. She toes out of her sneakers and shimmies off her jeans, humming to herself. Peeling off her socks, she steps over to the bed and pops herself onto the mattress. 

When she turns to look for him, he’s standing at the bottom of the bed, naked and waiting. A flush rises on his chest as he watches her. “Nevada,” he murmurs. A drop of warm velvet magic touches her sternum and she shivers. “Come here.”

Smiling slightly, she rises onto her knees on the bed and shuffles over to him. His arms wrap around her when she’s in reach and he lowers his head to kiss her, languid and delicious and open. She skates her hands over his chest and shoulders, memorizing the feel of muscle and limb and bone. Magic traces the lines of her body, flooding her belly and breasts. She moans into his kiss, hands falling to the jut of his hipbones. His fingers undo her bra and he slides it off one arm at a time. 

“I really did want to go slow,” he murmurs against her skin as he kisses along the line of her throat. His large warm hands slide over her back and ribs to cup her breasts, working in concert with the magic that slides over her skin and down to the curves of her thighs. 

“I like it,” she whispers, edging closer to him. Her hands slide over the wide muscle of his thighs. She wraps her fingers around his erection and strokes slowly. “I also like when you want me so much you tear my clothes off.”

He groans at the smooth rhythm of her hand, bowing his head to the curves of her breasts. “I always want you that much.”

Magic curls into feather-like glances over her inner thighs. She relaxes into the touch and moans as his mouth leaves wet trails over her breasts. Sticky warmth pools between her thighs and she shudders at the first glancing touch of velvet heat between her slick folds. Her fingers stutter on his cock. She feels his grin against her sternum, his breath warming the necklace still on her body. 

“Connor – “

“Lean back,” he murmurs, voice hoarse. 

She falls onto her back, breathing rapidly, and watches as he steps right to the edge of the bed. Hunger colors his gaze as he surveys her. His hands cup her at the hips and pull her so her legs hang over the edge of the bed. Then, he drops to his knees between her parted legs and peels off her underwear. 

“Shit – “ she curses as his magic floods the creases of her hip and thigh and his fingers stroke her. Whimpering, she presses her heel against his back for leverage as his mouth settles, eating into her slowly and with purpose. Pleasure crests within her, the ecstasy of his touch combining with the tease of his magic against her skin. Her hands fall to his hair, sliding into the tamed locks and mussing them as she gasps through her first orgasm. He doesn’t move, just licks and strokes and shimmers his touch into the rise of a second. 

“Connor, _please_ ,” she moans, tugging at his hair. She wants the press of his body over hers, wants to dig her fingers into his muscle, wants to suck a kiss of a bruise into his throat. 

When he lifts his head, his lips shine. She blinks through the haze of pleasure and laughs huskily, tugging on him. They press up onto the bed, kissing like messy fools. She drags her mouth over his collarbones and scratches her nails lightly down his back. His hands cup her ass and drag her up hard against his body, his erection grinding against her hipbone. 

She hooks a thigh over his hip and reaches down for his cock. “Come here,” she whispers, kissing the taste of herself and sex from his lips. 

He shudders under her touch and the magic skimming over her bare skin spikes in heat, a pleasant shock of sensation. She guides him in and he presses his brow to her shoulder, breathing as if the air is ripped from the bottom of his chest. She strokes her hands over his taut back, his shoulders, his waist. She touches the scars left behind from years of war. He groans as she kisses the line of his brow, his temple, his hips moving against hers in slow long strokes. Her thighs tighten at his hips and she feels the spill of her magic against his, twining together as pleasure rises like waves between them. When he lifts his head to meet her gaze, she sees love, wild devotion, and trust there. She will hold him together, just as he holds her. 

She comes once more from the flicker of his magic against her clit before he lets himself go, shuddering into a release that reverberates in her bones. Damp with sweat, she breathes harshly as she strokes her palms up and down his spine. He kisses her as he comes, demanding and possessive; she gives as good as she gets. 

Once she can feel her legs, she taps her knuckles against his back. With a groan, he slips out of her and rolls to the side. His hand fumbles for the curve of her hip. 

“I’m coming right back,” she murmurs hoarsely, slipping out of the giant bed and walking naked to the connecting master bathroom. She’s greeted by the jetted tub and glass shower she remembers from before, and sighs in renewed pleasure. 

“I’m beginning to think you’re marrying me just for the house,” he murmurs as she returns, freshened up. 

She grabs his button-down from the floor and slips it on. It comes to her mid-thigh. “Don’t tell my sisters the bathroom is so nice, they’ll come over and claim squatters’ rights,” she says lightly as she climbs back into bed. 

Immediately he lifts an arm. She tucks herself into his side and rests her cheek on his shoulder. He wraps his arm around her back. She feels the shift in his body as he rests his chin on her hair. 

“Are you scared?” she asks after a long comfortable spell of quiet, in which she counted his breaths. She doesn’t ever want to see him near death again.

“Of what?”

“Of my genes.”

“Nevada,” he mutters.

She raises her head, planting her chin on his chest. “It’s different when you know what Arabella is. When you see it. You looked totally freaked out by it. And it’s in us.”

He blinks at her. “No.”

“No, what?”

“No, I’m not scared.”

_Truth_. “Just checking,” she says, patting his chest. 

He cups her cheek in his hand. “Okay,” he says, a smile flirting with his mouth. “So, what do you want for dinner?”

She wriggles against him, laughing as his eyes roll over with heat. “What can you make me?”

“Pretty much anything you want, barring something bizarre or intransigent.” 

“I’ll think on it,” she says, kissing his chest. She can feel his heart beating right under the warm skin. 

Connor rolls her onto her back and hovers over her, a delicious grin lighting up his face. “Do that, and I’ll bide my time here,” he murmurs, kissing the line of her jaw and throat. 

Nevada sinks into the bed and his embrace and hums with pleasure. 

*


End file.
